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When she shut off the overhead light for a moment, it confirmed that the room was nearly as dark as night. Once the candles were flickering, releasing a warm scent of vanilla and spice, Diane turned out the light for the final time and beheld the scene.The only thing missing was the sacrificial virgin.After taking a deep breath, Diane carefully crossed the room to her bed and climbed in. She felt incredibly self-conscious as she lay on the bed in the candlelight, and couldn’t bring herself to undress. The book hadn’t said anything about that, though. Reaching a compromise, she parted her legs and reached between them to rub her folds through her shorts.Her fingers moved at a slow, methodical pace while her eyes roamed the room. She squinted into the darkness, seeking any sign of movement amidst the dancing shadows cast by the candles. The faint whoosh of the air-conditioning flowing through the vent was the only sound that broke the silence.Nothing was happening.Or rather, nothing. Celeste went too so that she could gather some things that she would need from her room.We were almost to their house when Kyle leaned over to me and said, “I’m trusting you.”I looked over at him. I nodded, thinking that he probably couldn't see me since I had the dash lights turned down.“I know,” I said quietly. “I don’t want to do anything to damage your family. I just want to help.”He reached out and put his hand on my arm where I was holding the steering wheel. He nodded and watched the road.We pulled up, and everyone unloaded.After I opened the back of the truck and let Amanda out, Faith came up to me and gave me another long, hard hug. Then, unexpectedly, she kissed me on the mouth.“We’ll get our turn soon enough,” she said. I was filled with longing for this dark, voluptuous beauty.“Not soon enough,” I said. “But soon.”I thought that she smiled in the darkness. She squeezed my hand and ran off to help her sister pack.Bethany and Amanda came up to me and wished me good luck.
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The newspaper articles about my baseball prowess were still attached to the mirror above my desk. And, I knew deep inside, my mother was still dead.I sat on the edge of the bed for a while, telling myself that it's not like I could have done anything to help her. And I'm sure I said goodbye to her; somebody must have been operating this body for the last three years and he couldn't possibly have been that big a jerk not to have said goodbye to Mom before she died. It just wasn't me. I'd apparently gone through all of the stages of grieving already, and now I was going to have to do it again.I looked over at the clock: 9:24. It was, I suddenly remembered, Christmas morning. I needed to at least show up. I found a relatively clean pair of jeans on the floor, and a nice-looking flannel shirt hanging in my closet that appeared to have never been worn. I pocketed the pile of stuff on my bedside table — a wallet, a pocketknife, a couple of quarters, and a set of keys — and with a last look.

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